


One Final Secret

by deathhaul



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail Hobbs Lives, Canon Divergence, Coming Out, M/M, Murder Family, abigail hobbs is a lesbian because i say so, and me trying to write a coming out moment i wished happened to me? yeah, implied/mentions of homophobia, is this a desperate attempt at coping?, mizumono doesn't happen - Freeform, or at least not like That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26400316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathhaul/pseuds/deathhaul
Summary: "It is an anxiety that rivals the severity of what she felt when her dad pressed his knife to her throat, only this time she is not afraid of dying, she is afraid to finally let the words slip past her lips. She knows they have to finally be said, while there is nothing for her to fear, the anxiety still festers inside her." / Abigail Hobbs struggles to keep her one last secret down after all those years, and finally tells her family- Hannibal and Will.(Could possibly exist within the same universe as The Lamb on the Fishhook)
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 143





	One Final Secret

Abigail drums her fingers against the cup of tea she is holding as she stares out the window into the vast forest. They had been happy in Florence, Hannibal had shown her beautiful works of art and taught her French. But over time Hannibal noticed how the rest of his family missed the nature they were accustomed to, so the three of them moved into their current residence. To call their home a cabin would be an understatement, it makes her childhood home look like the hunting cabin she used to slaughter deers in. She sips the tea that Hannibal had made her along with her breakfast, he always was good at picking up her anxious ticks, but she is sure he has no idea what brought them on.

Abigail hasn’t felt this anxious in a while. She wasn’t this anxious staying day after day hidden under Hannibal’s gaze, she wasn’t this anxious as she boarded the plane and sat between Will and Hannibal, and as she got better she wasn’t even this anxious when she lured the other girls. It is an anxiety that rivals the severity of what she felt when her dad pressed his knife to her throat, only this time she is not afraid of dying, she is afraid to finally let the words slip past her lips. She knows they have to finally be said, while there is nothing for her to fear, the anxiety still festers inside her. 

It is eating her alive, so much so that she misses the shot. Abigail curses under her breath as the deer bounds unharmed through the woods away from her. 

“Don’t feel bad, it’s not like our freezer needs any more meat.” Will says beside her, holding his own hunting rifle. “You will always be a better shot than me.”

Abigail chuckles bittersweetly, she doesn’t want to think about the ten bullets it took for Will to drop her dad. She knows that isn’t what he was implying, but the shots still ring in her ears. 

“Maybe one day I will be better at fishing than you are.” Will smiles widely over at her as they walk through the woods towards their home. 

“It’s quite possible. You are a quick learner, Abigail.” Her dad had said that while he taught her how to butcher deers and Hannibal had said that while he taught her how to play the theremin. Will leans over and plants a kiss on her forehead before they climb the steps to their home. Abigail opens the door and is met with the beautiful aroma of Hannibal’s cooking, a combination of freshly cooked meat and a blend of various spices. Will takes their rifles and heads down the hall to put them away as Abigail walks over to Hannibal, who is plating their dinners. 

“How was the hunt?” Hannibal says, breaking his concentration for a quick second to plant a kiss on her forehead, a habit both men have quickly acquired.

“I missed, shaky trigger finger.” Abigail shrugs as she steals an asparagus from one plate. She can tell Hannibal is surprised by the way his eyes shift, but no words come from his lips. “Who are we eating today?” She holds the asparagus in her teeth as she takes off her hunting coat, hanging it up by the door. 

“A very rude trespasser, would you like some more tea with dinner?”

Abigail nods as she takes her seat at the table, between Will and Hannibal’s chairs. She looks over to see the teapot already steaming and ready to be served. He pours her a cup and sets it in front of her before setting the rest of the meals on the table. Will walks into their dining, back from putting away their hunting equipment. He kisses Hannibal softly on the lips before sitting down as well. 

“Smells beautiful, but I would expect no less.” Hannibal smiles at Will's words as he sits as well. The small talk Will and Hannibal make starts to fade from her ear as she sips her tea and starts to cut up her meat into fork size pieces. 

“Abigail?” Hannibal’s somewhat concerned voice snaps her out of her haze. “Is everything alright?” She blinks a little and looks at him, noticing his mostly empty plate as she glances down to hers, which is mostly untouched and the meat is cut up into extremely small pieces. 

“Yeah, I’m just a little out of it.” She stabs a piece with her fork, wondering what body part it is from. 

“If you would like me to make you something else, something less-”

“Human.” Will adds before he sips his wine. 

Hannibal shoots him a glance but continues talking. “I will be happy to make you something else, if that is what is bothering you.”

“It’s not the food.” She puts the forkful in her mouth and then stabs another. “I guess I didn’t sleep as well as I thought I did.” Hannibal’s eyes flick to Will then back to her, she knows he is assuming nightmares are what is bothering her, he isn’t as hard to read as he thinks he is. 

“We are here for you, Abigail. Anything you ask or need from us, we are here.” Hannibal’s eyes are scanning her face, trying to pick apart what she is specifically worrying over- her dad, the various girls she lured, Nicholas Boyle, or even himself. 

“I know,” Abigail smiles. She tucks a piece of hair behind what should be her ear, out of a force of habit. It falls back to her shoulders and she continues to eat slowly. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

“Of course we do,” Will says. “Leaving the table when others are still eating is considered rude, right Hannibal?” Abigail smiles; a real smile. 

“It is indeed, very rude.” Hannibal says after a sip of wine. 

Her two dads stay with her at the table, making idle chit chat about their day and plans for the future as she finishes her meal. She nods along, feigning engagement in the conversation as she eats, their voices sound faint and distant. The only thing filling Abigail’s mind is her birth dad, and what he would have done to her if he had known.

After dinner Abigail is nestled in the corner of the couch, elbow resting on the arm of the couch as she reads. Will is sitting next to her, shifting his gaze from the TV to Hannibal, who is sitting in the armchair drawing what Abigail assumes is Will. The noises of Hannibal’s soft pencil movements on his paper and the TV bleed together in her mind to somehow form her dad’s voice. 

Abigail used to play out scenarios in her head; how it would go. Maybe he wouldn’t care, that is less of a scenario and more of a fantasy. Maybe he would drag her out to that cabin, kicking and screaming, maybe he would no longer want to kill her out of love. Maybe his love for her would die enough that she wasn’t worth killing, wasn’t worth not losing. Tears pinprick at her eyes as all the scenarios bleed together in her mind into a disjointed mess of murder and disappointment. 

She doesn’t even realize she is crying until Will’s soft hand is on her shoulder. 

“Abigail?” His tone is softer than she has ever heard it and it causes Hannibal to look over at them, a mixture of curiosity and worry growing in his eyes. 

“I’m fine,” she wipes the tear streaks from her face. “It’s nothing.” _It’s eating me alive._ Abigail rises from the couch, bending her paperback book in her anxious hands. Her rational mind knows they will not mind, she knows they wouldn’t mind even if they weren’t wearing matching wedding rings and sleeping in the same bed. She tosses the book onto the coffee table, fearing her fingers will otherwise tear it apart. Both men stay seated, looking up at her with concern. 

“It’s just,” the words are tangled in her throat, her vision blurs and then there are her parents. Her dad is where Hannibal is sitting, and her mom is where Will is sitting. Her face shakes and more tears fall. She rubs her hands over her eyes, partly embarrassed that she is unable to control these emotions and partly because she doesn't want to look at her old family. 

“You do not have to force yourself to tell us what is wrong,” the words are Hannibal's. “You do not have to tell us until you are ready, Abigail.” _I have been ready. I have been ready since I was 13, I have been ready my whole life._ She shakes her head, removing her hands from her face to play with the end of her scarf. The deep breaths she is trying to take only shake her harder, like a dead tree in a windstorm. 

The words are harder to swallow down than any of the human flesh she has consumed, she is tired of swallowing them down. 

Her eyes dart between Will and Hannibal, and Hannibal, sensing what she wants, rises from his chair to sit beside Will on the couch. Abigail tries to morph her face into a smile, to thank him, but her face isn’t cooperating with her requests. She rubs her face one more time, clearing her throat. 

“I’m, I’m a,” she tries to say. More tears well in her eyes and she glances up at the ceiling, trying to quiet them. Who knew three little words could be so hard to say?

Her eyes focus on her dads before her and their concerned expressions. “I’m a lesbian!” She yells, to no one in particular. The exhale that leaves her body had been building up for years, finally able to pull those words from her throat. Abigail doesn’t see their reactions, she sits on the edge of the coffee table, her head collapses into her hands. And she sobs; not from sadness, or fear, but from pure relief. 

Hands that she recognizes as Hannibal’s gently pull her own hands from her face. Holding her head like he did that day in his kitchen, he looks just as blurry as he did then. 

“Is that what you were worried about?” He asks softly. 

“Kinda, I mean,” she swallows down the tears rising in her throat. “I knew it wouldn’t be an issue, because, ya know.” Her eyes dart between Will and Hannibal, lingering on their wedding rings. “I’ve never said it before.” She mutters. Hannibal smiles at her, still holding her head in his hands. 

“I would hope I don’t need to say that we still love you.” She shakes her head.

“I know, I know you do. That wasn’t why I was upset.” Hannibal pulls away and settles back on the couch beside Will, looking at her curiously. “I thought I would never have a family I could tell it to.” Will’s smile is bittersweet, both men hold the same expression of sad understanding within their eyes. 

“Come here,” Will says softly. He offers her his hand and moves away from Hannibal, leaving enough room for her on the couch between them. And she takes it, fighting back tears. Abigail sits on the couch between them, resting her head on Will’s shoulder as Hannibal holds one of her hands. 

“How long have you kept this hidden?” Will asks after Abigail is relaxed between them, her shaking finally has stopped. 

“Since I was 13, I think.” She replies. “I knew I could never tell him.”

“You have no more secrets, Abigail.” She turns to look at Hannibal. “How does that feel?”

“Are you really playing the psychiatrist card?” Abigail asks with a smile.

“He actually doesn’t have that many cards to play in the grand scheme of things.” Will says and it receives a narrow glance from Hannibal and a chuckle from Abigail, which softens Hannibal’s gaze.

“I feel light. I have nothing left to hide from the both of you. I feel…” She drags out her words, trying to find what is right. 

“Seen.” Hannibal finishes for her and Abigail nods quickly. “It is always freeing when one can finally be seen by the ones who love them.” He squeezes her hand softly and she rests her head back onto Will’s shoulder. 

“Now I understand why you always steal my flannels.” Will says as he changes the channel on the TV. Abigail laughs, harder than she has in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this short little fic about Abigail coming out to Will and Hannibal. It is wholly self indulgent.


End file.
